


Sherlock Holmes, unhandy man.

by surejohnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John Watson is a Saint, Parental Mrs. Hudson, Sassy John Watson, Sherlock is a Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 16:02:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12821040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surejohnlock/pseuds/surejohnlock
Summary: When Mrs. Hudson asks the boys to come and help her with her flat, how could the boys say no?





	Sherlock Holmes, unhandy man.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is based on a prompt that I found on tumblr:
> 
> John helping Mrs Hudson to re-decorate her flat & Sherlock "helping", in his own way! (This is going to be so funny!) Does Sherlock know one end of a paintbrush from another? Hopefully, I'll find out!

Sunday was usually a day on which John slept in. He'd get up at around nine and would take a nice, hot shower after breakfast. 

This Sunday, he was in no such luck however. He was up at seven o'clock in the morning, ready to help Mrs. Hudson.

The elderly lady had asked Sherlock and John to help her redecorate her small flat. She had told them she wanted a bit more space to walk around and her light green wall needed repainting. John couldn't agree more with her on that.

There was one problem, however.

Sherlock and John had promised Mrs. Hudson they'd be there at eight, and world's only consulting detective still hadn't risen by a quarter to eight. Therefore, it was now up to John to wake the detective.

After putting his plate away in the sink, John moved to his flatmate's bedroom and knocked on the door. "Sherlock, it's about time you wake up!" he called urgently.

Someone from up above must've taken a liking to John suddenly, for the detective was at the door in a few seconds, draped in his sheet.

"Case?" Sherlock asked, stifling a tiny yawn the best he could.

John rolled his eyes and shook his head. "No, we're supposed to be at Mrs. Hudson's flat in," John paused to check his watch, "seven minutes. Get dressed!"

Sherlock shuffled back inside, avoiding a discussion about why clothes had to be worn (John had gotten sick of that discussion a long while ago). But the doctor also knew that Sherlock would do anything for their landlady, whether that be throwing an American thug out of the window multiple times, or putting on clothes.

The detective was ready within five minutes and John wondered how on Earth he could look so immaculate while John himself still looked like he'd just woken up.

"Let's go downstairs then," John hummed pleasantly to which Sherlock nodded once.

-

As Mrs. Hudson opened her door she hugged the two of them tightly and grinned. "Thanks again for helping me out, boys."

"It's the least we can do," John and Sherlock said simultaneously which caused all three of them to chuckle. 

"Come on, in you get then," Mrs. Hudson smiled.

The two men stepped over the threshold into the cosy flat.

"You could create more space by swapping the positions of the couch and your chair. The coffee table could then be moved as well. With the chair out of the way, you can push the kitchen table a little further away from the counter, giving you more space to move around when your cooking," Sherlock stated as he glanced around the room, apparently not wanting to waste time.

John smiled widely as he imagined the room in that way. "Brilliant," he grinned. "I knew you could deduce crime scenes, but the ability to deduce how to redecorate a room is new to me."

"Oh, shut up," Sherlock scowled, though there was fondness behind it instead of fire.

John put the chair to the side for a bit so they could swap it with the couch. He moved to the couch afterwards, glancing to Sherlock who was watching him with his arms folded over his chest.

"Yeah, I'd love to get some help, thanks, Sherlock," John sighed sarcastically, causing Mrs. Hudson to chuckle as the detective moved over. 

Careful not to bump into anything John and Sherlock were able to place the couch where the chair had previously been.

"I'll get you started on painting the wall, Sherlock," John said before the detective could move away from him again.

Sherlock held back a sigh that would clearly say 'I could be experimenting right now'.

John smirked and nodded once, moving to get the can of paint from the kitchen table before moving to the wall.

"You didn't have to tape it off already, Mrs. H," John smiled. "We could've done it for you."

"It didn't take me that much time and I'm still not too old to crouch down, young man!" she said in a mock stern voice. "I'll make tea and I'll bake something for you two too."

John nodded with a smile, opening the can carefully.

"Why do I have to paint?" Sherlock asked with a small scowl.

John rolled his eyes. "Because I can move the furniture quicker than you can," he said. 

"So I have to stare at this boring wall the whole time?" Sherlock sighed, and John thought he could even see a pout.

"No, you have to paint it," John said with a small grin.

"Same thing," Sherlock mumbled.

John rolled his eyes. "It's not too difficult, just put the brush in the paint and paint the bloody wall. I'll come and help you when I'm finished."

-

When John did come to help him, his eyes widened incredibly. "What the hell are you doing?!" 

Sherlock shrugged. "I'm painting the wall," he mumbled.

John took a deep breath as he shook his head. "You don't paint a wall by throwing the paint at it!" he said sternly, pointing to the can in Sherlock's hands.

Once again, Sherlock shrugged. "It's quicker," he said simply.

"My God," John sighed. "Did you even think about the floor?" he asked.

Sherlock looked to his feet and scowled. "No."

John rubbed the back of his neck. "Right then. Start cleaning the floor. I'll finish painting."

Mrs. Hudson smiled fondly and shook her head as Sherlock asked her for a sponge. "Here you go, dear," she smiled. "Besides, sorry I didn't stop him doing that, John. I was busy baking," she called to the doctor, who was painting the wall in the correct manner now.

"It's not your fault, Mrs. Hudson," John said. "I told him how to do it, but he just didn't care. Now he can clean up his own mess."

Sherlock glared at John's back before crouching down on the floor to get the paint off it. “It’s still the quicker way,” he mumbled.

John laughed and shook his head. “We’re doing twice as much work now. If you’d done it the proper way, we didn’t have to clean the floor,” he said.

“We? I believe I am cleaning the floor,” Sherlock said, looking up to John.

“Yes, because you’re the one who made the mess anyway,” John mumbled.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and glared at him. “At least I didn’t need a ladder to paint the wall,” he said, wanting to have the last word.

“Ha ha, very funny,” John said sarcastically.

“Boys, if you two could stop bickering for a moment? The cake is ready!” Mrs. Hudson smiled.

Both Sherlock and John rushed over to her, smiling. Mrs. Hudson’s cake was definitely one of the big plusses that came with helping her.


End file.
